Nothing To Do About It

Lois pulled up her panties, feeling them squelch uncomfortably against her cum-soaked puss. She grimaced at this reminder of her little indiscretion.

"Nothing to do about it now," she muttered, trying not to think of the little black swimmers inside of her. "No use crying over fresh cum." Sperm, she knew, didn't live long. Even if it was cum, it was probably infertile. If not...well, she'd get tested for STDs and pregnancy later. Deal with that when it was time to deal with that.

As it was, this whole excursion was feeling like a dead end. No missing women, no cult, no clues to where they might be. If there was a secret entrance hidden underneath the statue, she couldn't find the switch.

I went behind the Black Door and all I got was a creamed by an inanimate object. Lois thought sardonically. Then again...

Lois looked around the room again. There was nothing here but the statue. If there was a cult...if they did meet here...then this had to be the focus of what they got up to. When would they hold their meetings? Probably around midnight, probably on a Friday or weekend...just like tonight.

She searched the bare walls, and her gaze settled on a ventilation grate she hadn't paid any attention to before, right above the entrance to the room. An old-fashioned metal grate with hinges at the top, securely bolted into the wall, closed by screws.

Lois stood beneath it. On her tip-toes, she could just reach the bottom of it. Slipping out of her heels and stuffing the shoes into a jacket pocket, she braced her feet against the doorway and carefully began to inch herself up to the grate.

It was dirty...hadn't been cleaned in years, maybe decades. There were spots of orange rust showing behind the paint. Reaching into a pocket, she withdrew a slim multitool and began working at the screws. It only took a few minutes...long enough for her thighs and calves to ache from holding her in place...but in the end, the grate came free, opening upwards on its hinges, revealing a shaft at least two feet wide and eighteen inches tall, extending back ten feet.

Perfect.

With some difficulty, Lois levered herself up, feet first into the shaft. She wiggled into the tight space, feeling the cold metal on her thighs, stomach, and breasts as she settled in...then let the grate drop. The reporter looked through the metal bars: good visibility of the statue, fair visibility of the rest of the room.

A quick check of the phone told her there was an hour until midnight. Lois settled down to wait. If the cult showed, she was in a perfect position to snoop. If not...well, she'd need a tetanus shot to go along with the pregnancy test.

Either way, Lois told herself. Only one way to find out.